“No. I was thinking about something else.”
What might have put that expression on her face, a sort of sorrow mixed with a curious yearning.
“I was deep in my book and forgot I was supposed to be meeting with Bryce Kendall this afternoon. Did he come with you?”
He did not tell her he saw her arrive alone in the company truck. That sounded too much like he was spying on her, which he absolutely wasn’t. It was his house, after all.
“No. Bryce had a family emergency and had to run up to Lincoln City. I told him I would take care of the meeting and show you the updated blueprints.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there somewhere we can spread them out to take a look?”
“There’s a sawhorse in the kitchen with a couple of planks over it. That’s what Bryce has been using when we need to go over something on the plans.”
She studied the house with interest as he led her through to the kitchen. “Oh, you’re adding a bay window here in the kitchen. That’s a great idea.”
“I thought a dining nook would work well for our needs. The kids can do homework there while I fix dinner.”
“Good idea. I wanted to do the same thing.”
He frowned in confusion. “You did?”
“A bay window and dining nook was actually part of the plan my husband and I made when we purchased the house.”
He stared at her, completely nonplussed by the information. “You once owned Stormhaven?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t know. I would have thought Bryce or one of the subs might have mentioned it to you.”
He shook his head. “Not a word.”
“This was once my dream house,” she admitted with a rueful smile. “From the time I moved to Wood Briar with my mom in high school, I wanted to buy Stormhaven and fix it up. It’s been abandoned for years, waiting for the right owner. Gary and I worked for years to finally afford it.”
He shifted, uncomfortable at the idea of snatching herdream home out from under her. “I had no idea. Your plans obviously fell through.”
She looked away then turned back with a wooden smile. “My husband died the week after we signed the papers for Stormhaven.”
“That must have been tough.”
“I was too battered after Gary’s sudden death to move forward on the renovation. At first I didn’t have the mental or emotional strength for it. I was too busy with the bookstore and trying to keep the construction company alive. Plus, I was dealing with... family problems. I held on to the house for a few years but ultimately decided to sell it when the company was struggling and needed an infusion of capital.”
“Ah.”
Did she resent that he owned the house now? Was that one of the reasons for her negativity toward his books?
He did an internal eye roll at his own creative arrogance. His books simply weren’t her style. It likely had nothing to do with his ownership of her dream home.
“Unfortunately,” she went on briskly, unaware of his internal monologue, “I didn’t do my due diligence when I sold the place. The next owner spent the next three or four years trying to push through condominiums. They wanted to tear down the whole house and build something else in its place.”
He was beginning to think that might not be such a bad idea, given the headache of renovating it. “It does have a lovely view.”
“Yes. And I’m sure it would have made a great spot for some condos. But this house is a beloved part of our community history as the first truly grand home on this entire part of the coast, built by someone who made his fortune in mining.”
He had read some of the history of the house before hisown purchase went through. He knew it had a tragic past, with the original owner dying in a hunting accident before he ever had the chance to live here and his widow dying of consumption a short time later.
“When the consortium that owned it decided to finally list it again,” Rosie went on, “I was trying to spearhead a fundraising effort to purchase it and turn it into a museum or art gallery.”
“Until I bought it out from under you. I’m sorry.”